


Red, Green, and Sweet Like Gingerbread

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-04
Updated: 2003-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Willow spend a lonely S4 Christmas together and  manage to get into the holiday spirit after all. Spike/Willow PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red, Green, and Sweet Like Gingerbread

“You’re cute with tinsel in your hair,” Willow commented with a giggle, taking another sip of her eggnog. Which she’d laced with just a drop of rum. Her companion, on the other hand, had drained the entire rest of the rum bottle as well as a half a carton of nog. Both very good reasons for why he was lying sprawled on his back in the center of her living room floor.

“Not cute,” he insisted grumpily, fingers playing with a crystal snowflake that dangled from the tree, winding it up to the left before releasing it and letting it spin back around.

“Are so cute,” she countered. She actually suspected she was a little bit drunk. So it was probably a good thing all her friends had been too preoccupied to stop by on Christmas. They tended to freak disproportionally whenever she drank, like she had to be Little Miss Perfect all the time. Not that she didn’t love her friends, but sometimes they worried just a bit too much, kept her wound up tighter than she needed to be…

“Am not,” he countered with a boyish pout, jutting out his lower lip in the most adorable way she’d ever seen. “’m a big, bad, _nasty_ vampire, and I am absolutely, positively _not_ cute.” At that moment, the ornament he was playing with fell and, as he scrambled to catch it, his hand knocked one loop of garland from the lowest branch of the tree, causing the shiny silver boa to fall directly on his face.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Willow burst out into a fit of giggles. “Oh, you’re terrifying, Spike,” she agreed between laughs. “You look like you’ve just been assaulted by a gang of Santa’s elves.”

He managed to lift his head up – garland, tinsel, and all – for just long enough to growl at her before he flopped back down onto the carpet. “Don’t see why a Jewish Witch is celebratin’ Christmas, anyway,” he grumbled petulantly, reaching over for the rum and trying to drain the already dry bottle.

“I told you – I celebrated the Solstice, not Christmas. I just still have the tree up,” she insisted, still giggling at the downright adorable picture he presented. He was actually a lot of fun to be around in his lighter, goofier moods, and something about that lopsided smile on his face made her body heat up…

He grinned. “Then why’dja invite me over? All ‘I’m all alone and on Christmas, too!’” He faked a horrible girly American accent in mock-imitation of her.

“Was bored,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest in a pout. “And I do _not_ talk like that.”

“No,” he agreed, rising shakily to his feet long enough to plop down on the couch beside her, “but ‘s the only American accent I know.” Forgetting once more that the bottle was empty, he tried to drink from it again.

“Besides,” Willow went on, “you used to celebrate Christmas, right?” She waggled one finger at him. “And no one should be alone on Christmas…or so I’ve been told from numerous holiday specials.”

“You’re not gonna make me watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ now, are you?” he complained, looking as sullen as possible but strangely touched that she’d thought of him.

She giggled. “You’re adorable when you pout,” she informed him, happily snuggling up against him on the couch.

He blinked in surprise at the redhead curled up against his side, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. The angle gave him a perfect view of the long, pale column of her throat, and he practically groaned in response. “Not bloody adorable, or cute, or any other poncy adjectives you can come up with,” he insisted staunchly.

“Mmm,” she commented lazily, enjoying the feel of softened leather beneath her cheek. Why hadn’t she ever done this before? Oh yeah, because she was painfully shy when sober… “Fine, not cute,” she humored him. “Guess you try not to be with the whole punk thing…”

“Damn straight,” he agreed. Tried to drain empty bottle, take three. Squinted at it suspiciously. It was like the glass was mocking him…

“How about…” Willow’s drink-addled mind searched for the proper word, “…sexy?” Yup, that was it.

He blinked slowly, trying very carefully to determine whether or not he’d just hallucinated her words. “Did you just call me ‘sexy’?” he finally asked, confused.

“Yup,” Willow agreed, popping the ‘P’. She took another sip of her eggnog.

“Oh.” He blinked. “All right, then.”

She took another drink. “But you are cute with tinsel in your hair,” she added with a wicked little grin.

He snorted. “ _You’re_ the cute one,” he countered, “with your silky red hair and pretty green eyes – naturally suited to Christmas, you are.”

“A Christmas elf!” Willow agreed in delight.

He frowned. “Thought you were Jewish…”

She gave him a Look. “We already had this conversation,” she informed him.

“We did?” He tried to take another swig from the empty bottle.

“Okay, that’s it. You are _sooo_ drunk.” She snatched it from him, completely missing the logical inference that he couldn’t get any more drunk if there was no liquor in it. “I’m cutting you off.”

“Hey!” he complained, trying to reach around her to grab the bottle. “That’s mine!”

Willow giggled and leaned back, keeping the bottle out of reach of the vampire who had suddenly wrapped himself around her body. “Uh-uh,” she insisted.

He pouted again, and his shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he grumbled, not separating himself from her lap in the slightest. With a little ‘humph’, his head came to rest in the nook of her elbow, his cheek just brushing her breast.

Willow gulped when she abruptly realized she was lying back on the couch with a vampire sprawled on top of her. Not just a vampire, _Spike_. Her body began responding in all sorts of naughty ways to their position, heart racing, inner thighs chaffing, lips drying out…

A moment of silence hung between them while Willow tried to process the sensations that ‘Spike on top of me!’ offered and Spike snuggled contentedly against her warm body.

“You wanna know why I invited you over?” she finally asked, miraculously both tipsy and nervous at the same time.

“To call me on cheatin’ at poker last Tuesday?” he guessed, voice slightly slurred with sleep and drink.

“Nope.” She shook her head vigorously.

He frowned. “’Cause all your mates celebrate Christmas and weren’t around?” he ventured.

“Nope.” She paused. “Well, they do, but that’s not why…”

He seemed perplexed for a second. “Because you can’t resist my dangerous, sexy charms?”

Willow’s face flushed a deep red. Close enough.

He smiled up at her. “You look even more like Christmas when you blush,” he practically purred, nuzzling her pale throat affectionately, if a bit nostalgically.

“You…” The word froze on her suddenly parched lips. She was quite certain the warmth that suffused her body wasn’t due to the fireplace or the heat or any other natural cause. She recognized the warmth she felt only in this man’s… _vampire’s_ presence only too well. She wetted her lips. “You make me feel beautiful,” she finally managed to whisper, torn as to whether it would be too forward to stroke the platinum hair only inches from her face. She’d dreamed about running that white silk through her fingers far too often as of late…

“And you’re the only sodding thing in this depressing hellhole that makes me glad I didn’t fall on that stake,” he shot back easily, finding himself surprisingly relaxed in her company. She always managed to do that, somehow. Made him feel safe, unjudged, like he could spill all his dark little secrets and just be _himself_ without any repercussions.

“Aw, that’s…sweet,” Willow concluded, “in a kind of scary, suicidal way…”

“’Sweet’? That’s worse than ‘cute’!” he protested.

Willow’s inebriated mind took that as a challenge. She caught one large, cool hand in hers and raised it up to her mouth, looking him boldly in the eyes as her tongue flicked out to taste the tip of his finger. Her lips circled the digit for a second before she pulled back, leaving him stunned and achingly hard.

“Not sweet,” she agreed reluctantly. “Salty.”

His Adam’s Apple bobbed nervously. “How ‘bout you, pet?” he whispered huskily. “You sweet?”

She cocked her head to one side, offering him a taste.

With a groan, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the pulsing vein on her throat. He tasted her skin there with sensual open-mouthed kisses that made her whimper. Too late, though, he had to pull back. But for once he didn’t curse the chip for preventing him from going further. Blood was sweet, but her skin…

“Very sweet,” he informed her, blue eyes sparkling with unholy mischief, “like gingerbread.”

She suddenly felt herself growing very nervous. It belatedly struck her that she’d just had a very dangerous vampire licking her neck and that she was still firmly trapped beneath said vampire. Part of her wanted to believe that he wouldn’t hurt her even if he could, but a greater part right now was sending warning flares up a mile a minute.

Just because she’d spent a lot of time with him over the past month didn’t mean he could be trusted. And so what if she’d found herself more and more attracted to him the better she got to know him? That didn’t mean that he was any less dangerous, less likely to hurt her emotionally when he couldn’t physically, and… Full-blown panic attack mode set in.

Spike sensed her growing discomfort and sighed, plopping his head back down into the crook of her arm once more. The movement sent one of the tinsel strands stuck in his hair fluttering wildly. The silver confetti eventually settled right down on the bridge of his nose. His eyes narrowed at it, nose twitched…

Willow giggled, all earlier worries put immediately to rest. Unhesitantly, she reached over to pluck the offending tinsel strand from his head. “Can vampires sneeze?” she wondered with a little frown.

He sniffed contentedly now that his nose was free of the irritation. “Dunno,” he commented with that lazy thoughtfulness that only can occur when drunk. “Won’t find out thanks to you, though,” he countered with an irascible smirk.

Willow dangled the tinsel before her eyes, watching the pretty sparkles, so that she didn’t notice when he crawled up her body all seductive and panther-like. Didn’t notice until his face was only inches from hers.

He pointed to the tinsel. “Don’t I get a kiss?” he asked, cocking his head to the side in that way that always melted her heart.

“That’s only with mistletoe, not tinsel,” she countered, suddenly proud that she’d remembered that rule. Perhaps she’d had a bit more to drink than she thought.

He pouted. “Oh,” he said simply, moving to retreat again.

Her fingers clutched at black leather, halting him and earning her a curious look. “Think _I_ deserve a kiss, though, for finally getting the tinsel out of your hair,” she countered.

Intense blue eyes blackened with desire, at that. Willow barely had a chance to gulp before he was upon her, strong hands tangled in the fire of her hair and surprisingly soft lips pressed against hers. She let out a little gasp and shut her eyes. His lips were enticing, but not harsh. Quite sweet and gentle, actually. Not what she’d imagined kissing a vampire would be like at all…

A little growl sounded in his chest when he felt her lips begin to move against his. Moving in closer, he began to nibble lightly of her lower lip, coaxing her to give in more, to let the passion between them take on a life of its own.

She whimpered and gasped, and he took advantage the instant her lips were parted. Willow’s eyes opened wide when his tongue snuck past her lips to taste the sweetness of her mouth, but she quickly discovered just how _wonderfully_ talented his tongue really was and allowed herself to just give in to the pleasure. Her hands clutched at his back now, holding him to her, and her body savored every inch of contact they shared.

When he was confident she was well and truly kissed, he finally pulled back and was rewarded by ragged gasps for air. Resting against her cheek as she panted beneath him, he trailed light, casual kisses down the line of her jaw. Her skin was so fine, like porcelain, and it was sweet and soft to his touch.

“Just like gingerbread…” he repeated his assessment from earlier.

Willow blinked and looked at him. _He_ certainly didn’t taste of anything so innocent. He tasted of rum and cigarettes and burning, forbidden passion and, goddess, nothing had ever tasted better in all her life. Hands clutched in the leather of his jacket, she pulled him back down to her, teasing another kiss out of those full and talented lips.

Spike sighed against her but pulled back once her guiding hands directed him to the swell of her breast. With a little gasp, he managed to sit back and take a deep, unnecessary breath. “Easy, kitten,” he calmed down her own roaming hands. “Don’t wanna get carried away while we’re tipsy.”

She frowned up at him, blinking slowly and trying to process the fact that he was no longer on top of her. _Why’d the kissing stop? And the fondling? The fondling was fun…_ “You know, this happened last year,” she commented thoughtfully, dragging a memory out of the past. “On Christmas, too. Oz…” She paused, expecting the inevitable twinge of pain whenever she said her ex’s name. It didn’t come this time, though. In fact, the more time she’d been spending with Spike, the less her broken relationship with Oz hurt… “Oz went all chivalrous on me. Said we should wait.” She pouted. “I don’t want to wait this Christmas…”

Spike gulped at that. The wicked vixen had fixed him with those big, round, green eyes, and he could feel himself drowning in those emerald pools. His body hadn’t been unaffected by their little make-out session, and his jeans were chafing horribly right now. It would be so easy to just take what she was offering – what he wanted…

She could tell she had him halfway convinced. Leaning in, her fingers finally reached out to trace the fine cheekbones she’d been dreaming of touching for weeks now. “You know,” she informed him casually, almost innocently, “sometimes when girls are kinda shy, they have to do things to loosen themselves up. Like, say, getting a little bit tipsy so that they can finally make a move on the guy they’ve been fantasizing about for weeks…” She fluttered her eyelashes up at him.

“Minx…” he breathed appreciatively.

“It’s always the good girls,” she informed him with a giggle, hand slipping unfettered under the waistband of his jeans now. An excited thrill shot down her spine that this was actually happening, that she was touching him and he was actually interested, and… “I get tired of being a good girl all the time, you know,” she confessed, leaning in and licking the pale column of his throat. Goddess, he tasted _wonderful_. And that little shiver that ran through his body made her want to taste every inch of him, see just how much she could affect this beautiful man…

He caught her roughly by the shoulders, and his chip twinged slightly in warning, but he ignored it. He had no intent to hurt her, after all. He yanked her up into his lap and kissed her hard, savoring the feel of her petite, feminine body.

“’m thinking you’re being a very _bad_ girl right now, red,” he murmured against her cheek.

She giggled at that. “Always knew being bad would feel good. You know, I never really got Buffy’s vamp fascination before,” she commented offhandedly, the grinding of her hips into his erection in sharp contrast to her tone, “but I’m starting to see the benefits…”

He raised one eyebrow at that.

“Although,” she added thoughtfully, studying him intently, “you’re a hell of a lot hotter than Angel. So maybe I don’t know what she was thinking, after all…”

Those seemed to be some sort of magic words. Instantly, he was upon her with such passionate intensity that all she could do was gasp and lie back and enjoy. She caressed and rubbed against him whenever she could, but she was distracted by deft fingers undoing the pearly white buttons of her blouse and then artificially warmed lips against her breasts, clever fingers between her thighs, bodies rolling together and…

“Oof!” Spike let out an annoyed little exclamation as they rolled off the couch. It did give him an excellent opportunity to free her from her jeans, however.

Willow gasped and rose above him, wearing nothing but a set of dark green panties, and promptly decided that he was severely overdressed. He moved to assist her, shrugging his arms free of his duster and helping her pull his black t-shirt over his head. But, for the most part, he just enjoyed watching the delight on her face as she exposed his body to her hungry eyes.

Hot, tiny hands on the waistband of his jeans, she still couldn’t seem to tear her eyes off of the expanse of his chest. She had seen men like this before, but only in Renaissance statues. He seemed to be perfectly carved of the finest alabaster. The lights of the tree added soft colors to his flesh, a myriad of reds, greens, golds, and blues. The effect was simply breathtaking, and she was almost afraid to touch him. But then she did, and he felt even better than she’d imagined. Surprisingly silky skin for such a powerful fighter…

His eyes wanted to roll back in his head when her cautious hands first began to explore his chest. He forced them to remain on her, however. Small, pert breasts dangling enticingly, slim, long curves of light-dappled skin. Red hair surrounding her face like a silken curtain and brilliant green eyes watching him with awe. She really did look like a little Christmas elf, then. No, not an elf. Sexier than that. A wild nymph of the forest, celebrating the Yule under this tree.

He growled and took advantage of her hesitation to roll them over. Quickly, he yanked off the jeans she’d half unfastened, and he took one moment to gauge her reaction.

Willow gulped, and her eyes widened. Okay, so she’d had sex before, but…wow. She’d never… He was so… “Big,” the awed whisper escaped her lips.

A slow smirk spread across his face as his fingers deftly pulled away the last bit of cloth that covered her. Suddenly unexpectedly shy, she moved to cover the fiery curls, but he batted her hands away. Grinning like the cat who ate the canary, he looked right into her eyes, his own now a deep midnight blue, and flicked out his tongue to taste her desire for the first time.

Willow moaned at the contact.

Satisfied by her reaction, he caught one delicate thigh in each hand and spread her open for his hungry mouth. Her skin was a dappled painting of pastel reds and greens up until the center of her sex which was most definitely pink in any light. Leaning in slowly, his tongue flicked out, curved, and licked all the way up her slit in one long stroke.

“S-Spike…” she whimpered beneath him.

His lips nibbled at her clit before he pulled away to rest his cheek against one smooth thigh. “Yeah, kitten?” he teased.

She managed to fix him with that huffy, annoyed look that only she could effect. The one that not even the biggest bad would dare refuse. “More,” she ordered raggedly.

He grinned and continued to practice his art. Gentle, blunt teeth played with her clit, building her pleasure slowly. His fingers soon came into play, swirling tantalizingly around her opening, torturing her in anticipation, until finally plunging deep inside right with a rapid flick of his tongue over her nubbin.

Her pleasure came over her in a sudden release, and she grabbed roughly at the carpet, fingers desperate for something to hold onto as she plunged over the edge. This was a quick, jolting orgasm, however, and the pleasure flowed out of her body before she was ready.

Fortunately, Spike had more in plan for her. She couldn’t help but compare him to a panther as he crawled sensuously up her body, all lean muscle as ethereal grace. “Up for more, red?” he purred against her ear. Literally. Her body practically sang with pleasure at the realization that he could _purr_ , of all delightful things…

She pretended to think about. Just teasingly, of course. It was just too adorable to see this confident vampire pout when he thought he wouldn’t get his way. “Been waiting a long time for this…” she agreed tacitly, legs slipping around his waist and guiding him between her thighs.

His eyes met hers, stormy blue to wild green, and then he pushed in oh-so-slowly…

A series of little whimpers escaped her lips as, inch by inch, he filled her, stretching her just a little bit more with each passing second. This was torture and heaven all at once, the constant give and take, the seemingly endless slow, steady push…

“I got you,” he whispered gruffly, voice husky with pleasure as he clung tightly to her, finally completing his penetration. “See, there. You’ve got me, too, luv…” he soothed her. He was pleased, though. Nice to have a little chip confirmation that he hadn’t hurt her in the slightest.

She was panting by now. She’d never known it could be so…deep… He was so far inside of her and, goddess, now he was moving, and it was wonderful, and the pleasure, it was too much, she wasn’t sure she could take it, and she suddenly realized she was babbling all this out loud, and…

“That’s not good because, oh, I’ll say all sorts of things I shouldn’t, but you feel so good and, wow, how do you _do_ that and, oh please, again and…again and…oh, you’re hitting something, something good, yes harder, right there, right there, oh goddess, oh Spike, don’t stop, no more, more, _more_!” Her pleas reached a crescendo as she quickly rose to the peak once more.

Which worked out perfectly for Spike’s own climax. The smell of her desire and her scalding inner heat were driving him nearly to madness, and he knew the instant he was inside her that he wouldn’t last long. Especially the way she kept talking.

His own words quickly mingled with hers, sweet nothings and reassurances as he found his pleasure in her body. “So beautiful…a sweet treat, you are…never thought…afraid I’d never get close again…never imagined you’d let me, you’d want me…” He felt his control slipping away, and words failed him as the world around him drowned in waves of pleasure. “Willow…” he gasped out before he was overcome.

He was hitting that secret spot within her just perfectly now, each powerful stroke sending an increasing jolt of pleasure through her. But when she heard her name, so rare an exclamation from her lips, she finally fully fell, clinging tightly to him for comfort as the world fell away, and it was just the two of them, and he was so beautiful, and the lights and the garlands and the tinsel were all swirling around her vision now, and she’d never felt this _wonderful_ in all her life…

A minute of complete, contented silence.

And then, with a little gasp, Spike awoke to find his face buried in waves of fire. He savored the peppermint scent of her crimson locks before pushing his weight back off of her so that he could watch her face as she awoke. She really was an extraordinary beauty, delicate and feminine but with hidden power that he found irresistible. With sudden tenderness, he stroked her cheek, even as he hardened again within her body.

A soft murmur, and she awoke. “Mmm, Spike…” A soft smile curved her lips as her hands played over his now-warm flesh.

“I take it you liked?” he couldn’t help but press her.

She giggled. He was actually kind of cute when he did this little arrogant act of his. She’d thought it annoying at first, until she’d gotten glimpses of the man beneath it. So lonely and vulnerable… A complete contradiction with the image he displayed, actually. “I liked,” she assured him, fingers trailing up his forearm. “And who would’ve thought? You’re a talker.” She smiled at that. She’d liked hearing him open up to her, whisper his darkest secrets while the blinding pleasure disarmed his usual defenses.

Those defenses were up again now, of course, and he retorted with one of his usual barbs. “ _I’m_ the talker?” he scoffed.

She couldn’t help but smile at that. He did after a point, after all. Sex tended to turn babble mode on high for her. “How was…?” she began.

“ _Wonderful_ ,” he cut her off with a deep kiss, not even letting her spare a thought for the insecurities that silly wolf had left her with. He felt an uncharacteristic tenderness for her, then. Even when he’d still been out to kill the Slayer’s little club, she’d always been the best of the lot. Listened to his problems, even when he was making death threats as well. And since this chip debacle, she’d been the only one who’d seemed to notice his pain, to care and to try to make things better…

It was nice to have someone who cared again. Someone he could respect. Someone he could give something back to. Both thrown aside by their lovers. There was a camaraderie in that, maybe something more…

“Hmm,” Willow’s hand reached up to cup his cheek, watching the emotions flicker across his face. Mostly happy ones right now. “This isn’t a bad Christmas at all,” she concluded.

“Best one I can recall,” he agreed with a grin before leaning in to nuzzle her throat. “And ‘s gonna get even better…”

“Oh?” she looked down at him curiously.

“Don’t tell me you never girl-talked with the Slayer ‘bout this stuff,” he teased lightly.

She frowned now, confused. “Huh?”

“Best thing about datin’ a vamp,” he began seductively, lips whispering against hers.

“Do tell.” A smile was creeping upon her own features again.

“ _Stamina_ , pet,” he winked.

And she gasped as he was moving within her once more, head thrown back so that she could watch the tree above them, smiling at what a lovely Christmas gift this vampire was. _Stamina, indeed…_


End file.
